


Memoriam

by kathleensmiles



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathleensmiles/pseuds/kathleensmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it was the whiskey in his veins, but he decided to tell her everything about the Woman he'd once loved. Everything except the fact that every time he looked at Carol, it felt like he was betraying her. Daryl/OFC past and Daryl/Carol Warning for sex,gore, violence, language and minor drug use. Rated M.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tell A Story

**Author's Note:**

> So this story popped in my head as I slept and refused to leave me be so I posted this intro. Please review and let me know if you'd read this and if not I'll delete it.
> 
> This story is going to bounce between pre-early ZA and around ep.09, which is when the intro takes place. It's a Daryl/OFC past as fic as well as a Caryl fic.
> 
> Daryl is a little OOC in this intro because he is drunk and hating himself,but if you guys want me to continue I promise Daryl will be his surly self next chap :)
> 
> Please review and tell how I did and wether or not I should continue, if I don't get any reviews I will delete it.
> 
> I own only my OCs. Enjoy!

Intro: Tell A Story

Let me stay Where the wind will whisper to me

Where the raindrops, as they're falling, tell a story.

Imaginary- Evanescence

Carol was over halfway to the farmhouse, tears threatening to spill over from the sting of Daryl's words, when she had to stop. Her knees were shaking, threatening to buckle with every uneasy step. Exhaustion coursed through her. She'd never felt so tired, despite the fact that she was in better shape physically than she'd been since the dead had risen. Hell, this was the first time in over 20 years that she wasn't struggling to hide broken ribs and bruises- however her mind was running at a thousand times it's usual speed. No matter how she tried she couldn't stop the flow of thoughts and emotions, they raced around through her head without a single pause.

Sophia-dead-failed-Daryl-gone-leaving-alone-Ed-was-right-useless-bitch-no-wonder-Sophia's-dead-dead-dead-just-a-burden-Daryl-can't-want-you-no-one-wants-you-failed-

She shook her head desperately while she sobbed, as if she could throw the thoughts away. They were always there, bubbling under the surface.

After all, she thought hopelessly, you can't hide the truth.

She shook her head again, this wouldn't be her, not anymore. These thoughts belonged to a weaker woman, someone who'd allowed themselves to be controlled and manipulated until they didn't know who they were anymore. Someone who'd been get stripped away bit by bit and had given in to a monster.  
No, she wasn't that woman, she was better than that. She would never back down again.

But isn't that exactly what you just did, her thoughts sneered, taking on Ed's grating tone as they mocked her. Redneck tells ya what's what and ya run off scared, you cowardly little bitch. He shoulda smacked ya on your ass.

Yes, she had. When she'd headed out to see him she'd been determined that nothing would stop her. He wasn't pulling away, not anymore. The group needed him and now more than ever he needed them. He needed to understand that he was wanted and that she didn't blame him, she could never blame him. Yet the moment those blue eyes had hardened she felt herself waver. She'd flinched and ran, it was as simple as that. He hadn't scared her, she knew that Daryl would never stoop to hitting a woman.  
He wasn't his brother or Ed,unlike them, he was a decent man. It was his eyes that made her crack, because when she stared beyond the mask of anger she could the excrutiating pain of failure. The ghosts of Merle and Sophia swam in his cold stare, but just beyond them was another hurt, a scar she couldn't quite place.

She couldn't stand to see his pain. Her pain could manage, she'd been carrying it for weeks now, but Daryl's was something else entirely.  
So she'd ran. She'd thrown in the towel and now she hated herself for it.  
Her legs started carrying her back towards his tent before she was completely concious that she'd decided to go back. His fire had dimmed significantly and there was an empty bottle of Johnny Walker Blue that had not been there before and she wondered absentmindedly how long she'd stood crying in that field.  
The inside of the tent rustled and she jumped a little as Daryl peered out of the opening. He was even more disheveled than usual, his dirty blonde hair sticking up in some places and another bottle of Johnny Walker clutched in his hand. The air around him smelled like dirt and whiskey and he had a far away look in his eyes, the pain she'd seen earlier numbed with booze. His eyes hardened when he saw her, though it was clear that his mind was elsewhere.

"Thought I told ya to git," Daryl grumbled.

"You did," Carol admits with a shrug as she sits in front of his now weak fire in an attempt to get warm.

He stares at her while she rubs her arms, trying to warm them up. Damn, this woman confuses the ever loving shit out of him and the booze isn't making anything clearer. His gaze takes in her flushed face and reddened eyes, she's obviously been crying and his first thought is to tear whoever the hell had the nerve to upset her a new one.  
But I made her cry, he realizes and his guts twists and his stomache churns as if it's trying to escape. The whiskey threatens to come up fighting, but he swallows. He doesn't want anyone to see him puke, least of all her.  
He ought to apologize, he know's that what manners dictate but he's never been good with manners so he tries another course of action.

"It's warmer in the tent, ya oughta get in there 'fore ya fuckin freeze to death," he found himself muttering.

Hell, he thought, I must be drunk.

She smiled that Carol smile- that mind-blowingly sweet and warm grin of hers that managed to crawl into his head and stay there, and said a quiet thank you.

The contents of his stomache threatened to escape again because he knew she had nothing to thank him for, all he'd done was fail her, it was all he'd ever done.  
He failed Carol,just like he failed Annie...

Shit, Annie.  
The entire reason he'd begun drinking was to stop thinking of Annie and now that he'd started he couldn't stop. He knew that if he so much as blinked he'd see her green eyes staring at him, looking hurt and betrayed but somehow still loving him. Even then, she'd loved him. It would be easier almost, if she hadn't.

"Daryl? " Carol's voice cut through the thoughts, emanating kindness and concern that he knew he didn't deserve.

Fuck, he didn't even deserve to have her near. She was everything he'd never been, she was caring and good and he was backwoods redneck trash. He couldn't have her and it was meant to be left that way. If Annie taught him one thing it was that when he took what he shouldn't have it didn't end well. If he wasn't careful, he'd ruin Carol too.  
It would be so much easier if she would just stay away, less tempting, but he would learn to ignore her if he had to.

"Why do you do it Daryl?"

"Do wha?" He growled, faking what he hoped was an annoyed expression.

"This," she gestured to their surroundings,"cut yourself off and pull away."

"Ya tryin to shrink my head woman?" He hissed,"cause I don't need it!"

She winced, hurt,"No I'm not,I just- I'm sorry." Her eyes filled with tears.

He was hurting her again, her tears were going to be on his consience.

He felt himself break, felt his tongue moving without his consent. Maybe it was the horrors of the day, the pain in her eyes or the whiskey in his veins, hell maybe it was all three, but he began to tell her about the first time he'd been up this way. About Annie. He began to tell her everything about Annie except how every time he looked at Carol he felt like he was betraying her. No amount of booze could force that from his tongue.

"It all started," he growled slowly,"with a car crash."


	2. Unbruised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's almost no Carol in this chap, sorry but I wanted to introduce Annie so this is mostly a flashback chap. The focus will be on Daryl/Carol next chap though, I plan on going back and forth like that for the most part. Also, I do not at present time have a beta so if there are any mistakes please tell me. 
> 
> Disclaimer: If ya recognize it, it's not mine. I also do not approve of racism, sexism and general assholery- Merle and Jack however do.

Chapter 1: Unbruised

This is not the end  
Lived unbruised, we are friends.

Sigh No More, Mumford And Sons

Daryl drove quickly but cautiously as he sped down the Georgia freeway in his beloved, but beat-to-shit, old truck while Merle rambled excitedly from the passenger seat.

"Ya sure as hell can't say I ain't never done nuthin' for ya now can ya baby brother?" Merle chuckled," A few six-packs, the open road, and a chance to go hog huntin' with good ole' Merle. What more could ya want?"

Daryl just grunted in reply, he could think of a few things- like his big brother getting some sort of steady job for instance, but he kept his mouth shut.  
Driving or not, Merle would punch him out if he started back-talking him or pointed out that Daryl was financing the trip beacause Good Ole' Merle hadn't gotten a paycheck in over 10 years. It was better to tread carefully, besides he grudgingly admitted, it was nice of his brother to suggest the outing.  
Neither of them had ever been to Kentucky before and he really was looking forward to getting one of them hogs in his sights. He just hoped that Merle wouldn't get too fucked up during the hunt. Didn't want all the game to get scared off.  
Deciding to relax and stop worrying like a fucking old woman, he rolled down the windows and tried to enjoy the breeze. If Merle was trying to be cordial, least he could do was try and chill the hell out. So far the trip was off to a decent start, the night was clear and they were making good time.  
If all went to plan they'd be in Kentucky by morning.  
On cue, a rusted out old Chevy pickup swerved out of a nearby exit as if to say 'Jinxed it!'  
He turned hard on wheel, trying to swing the Ford out of it's path, but it was too late. The Chevy slammed into the end of the truck, sending it spinning into the ditch.  
Daryl swore as his beloved Ford fell onto it's side, cursing furiously as the pickup crashed into the truck bed, forcing his head to smash against the dash board and causing Merle to topple ontop of him. There was complete silence other than the final groans of the trucks while the dust settled. Naturally, Merle's voice broke through the quiet. Some things never changed.

"Sumbitch! Imma kill that piece 'a shit! You okay there Daryl?"

"I'm a'ight," Daryl growled, "be better if ya'd get the hell off'a me."

"I'm tryin lil' brother, gotta smash the window an' crawl out so I can kill that mutherfucker. Jus' gimme a sec."

True to his word, at least in this case, Daryl heard Merle break the window and felt a significant wieght leave his chest.  
Crawling out after his brother, he looked himself over. He was sore, but the injuries seemed superficial. Nothing more serious then some cuts and bruises.  
He turned his attention to Merle, who was stomping towards the unscathed Chevy in a blind rage.  
He seemed no worse than usual and Daryl ran up to him to try prevent what he knew would be a massacre that could possibly land Merle back in prison.  
Yeah he wanted the dumb fuck dead too, but after a crash like that the cops would be on them like ticks in no time and he wasn't going to jail over some drunk prick.

"C'mon Merle shithead ain't worth it, cops will be all over the place in a couple 'a minutes. Best let it go."

Ignoring him, Merle proceeded to shout at whoever was in the Chevy. "You best get yer ugly ass outta that there truck 'fore I throw it out faggot! Come on out and take it like a man you slimy lil' piece a' shit!"

Focusing on the approaching red and blue glow of police cars and the whir of sirens, Daryl hissed. "I said fuckin let it go, cop's 'er here fer fuck's sakes!"

By some miracle, Merle listened to reason and backed away from the pickup with murder in his eyes. Dixons weren't exactly crazy about cops and the brothers were no exception. They tensed nervously as the two police cars pulled up beside the wreck and a sheriff, decked out in full old west style, stepped out.  
Completely bypassing the Dixons he walked directly to the Chevy and pulled the driver out, shaking his head with exasperation. The driver was a man of about 30 or so, light brown hair plastered to his narrow face with sweat while he squinted at the sheriff, obviously wasted.

The sheriff sighed. "Jesus Christ Jack, what the hell have ya done now?"

Sighing again, the old cop turned to a nearby deputy."Doug? would ya mind callin' Annie?"

The deputy nodded and started back towards the squad car, turning to Jack with a look of disdain he grumbled, "Dunno how we're gonna tell the poor girl that ya went and fucked up again."

Annie Carlson tripped sleepily down the stairs towards the ringing phone, wondering why in God's green earth someone had the urge to give her a call at three in the morning. It was highly unusual and she had half a mind to give them a stern talking to. Her two basset hounds, Murrie and Merve, perked their heads up as she ran into the living room. Murrie begged for some playtime while cranky old Merve just look pissed that she'd interrupted his sleep.

Picking up the phone and petting the dogs, she mumbled groggily into the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hello Annie, awful sorry to be wakin' ya up at this hour. It's Doug."

Doug, the local sheriff's deputy. It must be about Jack.

"What did he do this time?" She asked quietly.

"Got wasted and high as the clouds, took a drive and ended up plowing into a couple of out-of-towners on the freeway."

"How bad is it?"

Doug sighed loudly. "Pretty bad, totaled their truck, lucky he didn't kill 'em. Found a bunch of Coke in his glovebox too."

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

"I'm sorry Annie."

"It's not your fault, Doug. I just thought that maybe..." she bit her lip and trailed off. It didn't matter. "Nevermind. See you soon."

Click.

Steadying herself, she gripped the table and steeled herself for dealing with Jack. He'd messed up, again, but he was still her big brother.  
She still had to take care of him the best she could.  
Yet she had no idea how to do it. With Ma sick money was tight, how could she cough up bail and still pay the medical bills? What about the repairs on those poor folk's truck? Biting her lip to keep from sobbing, she ran quickly ran upstairs and threw on an old dress. She stood in the entryway and grabbed her older sister's car keys. Jack had apparently taken her truck.

"Vicks!," she called out to her sleeping sister from the bottom of the stairs,"I'm borrowing the Jeep!"

"Why? It's fuckin' three in the fuckin' morning!" was the grumpy reply.

"Jack's in trouble, I oughta be back in a hour or so."

"Jack what!?"

Heading out the door she simply replied that she'd explain later and started up to the freeway. Her breath caught in her chest a little when she saw the crash site.  
An old pale blue Ford pickup was laying on it's side, the bed of the truck smashed into a pulp. Her heart lept at the thought of the passengers. Were they okay? How on earth could they be?  
She would never forgive herself if Jack had hurt them. He'd used her truck, after all. Parking, she dove out of the Jeep and ran to her brother. He was completely uninjured and greeted her with open arms, an idiotic drunken grin on his face.

"Annie! How's my lil' sis?"

Trying not to smack that stupid smile off your face, she thought bitterly, though she held her tongue as usual.

"Jack! What in god's blazes did ya do?" She asked, panicked,"What about the other folks, did ya hurt 'em, what happened!?"

Jack waved his hands in an apparent attempt to calm her down, seeming completely unfazed by the entire situation.  
"Calm fer fuck's sakes- they're fine, only a couple 'a rednecks anyways. It's no big deal."

She stared at him in total shock and disgust. "No big deal?! You coulda killed them for chrissakes!"

He chuckled,"Oooh Annie swore! I'm gonna get it now!" He laughed obnoxiously,"C'mon Annie-Belle it'll be fine, you'll bail me out and it'll almost like it never happened. Hell, I'll be so good ya won't even recognize me."

No you won't, she thought to herself. You'd keep your nose clean long enough to get my hopes up, you'ld fuck up and then you'd convince me to bail you out again. I learned that I'm just a piggy bank for you to break into and someone to pick you up from jail a long time ago, she thought sadly. But the bank's run dry.

"I can't afford to pay bail...," she mumbled nervously.

His eyes grew large as saucers and his face turned red with rage. Of course nearly taking someone's life didn't bother him, but not her not paying bail got a reaction.

"What?! Wha' the hell do ya mean ya ain't payin!?"

"I can't Jack, I gotta pay Ma's nurse and for the perscriptions-"

"I'm yer fuckin brother!"

"And I warned you," she snapped,"I told ya the money was tight and that I couldn't help you if ya screwed up again!"

He stepped forward as if he was about to slap her when Doug grabbed him a stuffed him into the squad car while Ernest, the sheriff stepped over to talk to her, nodding apologectically.

"I'm awful sorry about this mess Annie."

"It's alright Ernest, I'm used to it. What's the damage?"

"Well Kris and 'em said they're gonna hafta take a better look at the truck in the shop to get a better idea of how much repairs 'll cost, they're figurin' it'll take at least a couple of weeks for them to get the parts though."

She sighed. So it would be expensive. "Thanks Ernest."

"No problem Annie, you just let me know if there's anything me or my boy can do for ya. That goes for Vicks and your Ma too."

"Will do, but for now all I need is to know who I owe."

Ernest gestured over to where two men stood. The biggest looked to be in his early forties, had a buzz cut and wore a biker's vest over a dirty tank top. He stared at her with an expression somewhere between a snarl and a leer that made her instantly uneasy and was built like a tank. The other was by far the more attractive of the two and looked to be between his late twenties and early thirties. He had a nice build, she thought as she looked him over with a admiring gaze that she hoped went unnoticed. Muscled but lean, unlike his counterpart who looked like he'd been on a steady diet of steroids. His hair was dirty blonde and he had the traces of a goatee along his jawline, but it was his eyes that struck her.  
They were ice blue, it wasn't a color that you saw very often. Get ahold of yourself Annie, she chided herself mentally.  
Focus on the matter at hand, you're not his type anyways. Waving a quick goodbye to Ernest, she walked over to discuss how she aimed to repay them for her brothers mistake.

Daryl had been surreptiously studying the girl since she'd arrived. She was interesting, to say the least, completely unlike any other broad he'd seen. She was dressed rather plainly in a modest light green dress but her hair hung to one side in light brown dreads, an uncommon sight in The Middle Of Nowhere, Georgia.  
Her height was about averege but it was apparent that she was 'leggier that a bucket of KFC', as Merle would put it.  
From what he could tell she had a pretty cute little figure under that plain old dress, but her eyes were what demanded your attention. Big, wide doe eyes in an astonishing forest green. He liked that color, it felt solid and earthy, like the woods he frequented. Like home. Jesus, he was starting to think like a fucking girl.  
He suppressed a growl in the back of his throat when he caught his brother openly leering, his eyes crawling over the girl's ass like some sort of insect, slimy and unwanted. Daryl clenched his fists but kept his mouth shut, it wasn't his buisness anyways.  
But it bothered him and the irratation wasn't going away. He didn't want Merle around this woman, it was clear she had her fair share of bullshit, she didn't need Merle-Mother-Fuckin-Dixon adding to it.

What, ya think she do better with yer white trash ass? His thoughts taunted, sounding eerily like his father.  
Think she'd be up fer a few rounds with Daryl E. Dixon? A high school drop-out, a construction worker, lives in a fuckin' shack with his meth-head brother? Yer even dumber than ya look ain't ya?

Well at least I ain't a drunken white trash asshole who dropped outta high school livin' in a shack, Daryl replied. That shut him up.  
The girl walked over then, no doubt to clean up the dick-head's mess.

She nodded politely and offered her hand. "Hello, name's Annie Carlson- I'm afraid my brother Jack's the one who destroyed ya'lls truck," she bit her lip nervously. "I'm awful sorry 'bout that. Jack's got a habit of doin' stuff like this."

Daryl shrugged, hoping he conveyed that she didn't owe them her apologies while Merle piled it on so thick he had to strain to keep from puking.

"It's a'ight little lady, ya certainly got nuthin t' 'pologize fer. I'm Merle and this here's my brother Daryl."

Daryl smirked as she grimaced a little, obviously not buying Merle's sugary attitude, though she quickly covered it up with a mumbled 'thank ya'll.'  
She bit her lip again,"Well ya'll are gonna hafta stay in the area a couple weeks while the parts come in and I can't in good conscience just send ya'll off with nowhere's to stay...My Ma own's the local inn, I been watchin it while she been sick. We got a few rooms to spare and I can give ya'll a couple. Free food and board."

Merle smiled manically, obviously thinking about getting her into one of those rooms alone. "Well thank ya that's awful kind."

She stiffened at his expression but smiled weakly,"Nuthin special 'bout it- it's just the right thing to do is all," she mumbled uncomfortably as she led them to the Jeep and started it up.

Her passengers began to crawl in and she thanked god when Daryl beat his brother to the front passenger seat. If she'd had to deal with Merle's staring during the whole drive she would of lost it. Ma had taught her not to judge but that man gave her the creeps.  
She drove in silence, grateful that the younger brother didn't try to start any conversation. There were far to many thoughts running through her head and he seemed to respect that. She had no idea how the hell she was going to pay for their truck's repairs and she was still reeling over Jack's latest betrayal. Not to mention that he'd looked like he was going to hit her, Jack had hit her before but that was years ago. It was the one thing she thought he'd grown out of, but now she wasn't so sure. She was almost glad that Ma was still in a coma, if she'd seen the scene tonight it would've killed her for sure. Pulling into a well manicured driveway near the middle of town she parked the jeep.  
The inn wasn't quite as pristine as it had been before Ma's coma, but Annie still did a darn good job of keeping the place together, if she said so herself. It was a large white, victorian farmhouse with a huge porch and a sign in the yard that read 'Wilson's Creek Inn.'

"Ya'll go on in, door ain't locked. I'll show ya'll to your rooms in a minute," she said as she waved them towards the house. She needed a minute.  
Merle didn't hesitate and quickly jogged inside.  
Daryl however lingered and turned to her, his expression revealing the barest hint of concern.

"You al'ight?"

She just stared at him at first, surprised. After all, those were the first words he'd said all night. After a few seconds she chuckled humorlessly.

"I'm always alright."

He nodded in understanding. He knew what it was like to spend your life cleaning up after others. "Jus' makin' sure."

"Daryl?"

Daryl looked up towards Carol, her face was blurring in his eyes. There would be thousands of her and then there would be none, just a few faded speks of color to suggest where she'd been. His head was swimming and spinning all at once. Carol took in his sudden paleness and the sheen of sweat that had seemed to come out of nowhere. He looked clammy and ill and his eyes were cloudy and unfocused.

"Daryl, you look...," she paused, not wanting to worry him. "How are you feeling?"

Like hell, he went to reply but his throat filled with bile. He couldn't force it down and instead he bent outside of the flap of his tent and released it. He felt the softness of her hands holding his hair back.

He struggled to form a sentence between throwing up as all the whiskey he'd drank was thrown outside.

"Didn't...Want ya..To see me puke," he gasped out before puking again.

Ignoring him she held his hair and wiped his forehead, trying to soothe him.

"It's alright, you just drank a little too much...It's alright now, hush..."

He struggled desperately to shake his head. She couldn't begin to understand how horribly he'd failed, what he'd done. Nothing was alright, nothing ever would be again. This was hell, losing everything and knowing that the solution to all your pain was in the one person you could never have. Because he would destroy her, he always destroyed whatever bit of good that stumbled his way.

"No it ain't, it ain't alright..It ain't," he mumbled near-incoherently as he finished throwing up, his eyesy growing heavy.

Carol just wrapped her arms around him wordlessly and held him as he passed out, wondering what this man had lost to leave him so utterly broken. She wanted to understand, to know the story. Then, maybe, she could start to heal him. She owed him that.


	3. Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anywhovillian, as I'm sure you've figured out I don't own TWD or anything related to it, tried to steal it but it wouldn't fit in my van... XD Jk. If ya recognize it, I disclaim it.

Chapter 2: Distraction

Trying hard to speak and  
Fighting with my weak hand  
Driven to distraction  
So part of the plan

X & Y- Coldplay

Daryl awoke to the sensation that something was trying to break out of his skull, his head was throbbing and he half-heartedly decided to never drink again.  
The light touch of Carol's arms around his shoulders lingered in the back of his mind and he wondered what the hell he could possibly say after last night's little nervous breakdown. Nothing was probably the best course of action, he'd already made up his mind about staying away from her anyways. Fuck, if anything last night was all the more reason to avoid her like the Black Plague, if his behavior was any indication she obviously had the ability to render him temporarily insane. At least, she did when combined with whiskey. He reminded himself to avoid drinking around her, he had a difficult enough time controlling himself as it was without booze fucking up all his hard work. Worse of all, he'd dreamed after he'd passed out, more vividly than usual.  
His body grew taut as he remembered the details, the distinct feel of Carol underneath him, the sound of her panting and the sweet taste of her sweat as he kissed her collarbone...He shook his head in an effort to calm his body. Not long after that dream he'd had an equally intense and vivid nightmare. It was at least part memory, the sound of Annie screaming was too real to be complete fiction. Yet directly after that he'd dreamed of Carol again. If that didn't prove what a sick son of a bitch he was nothing would.  
Tugging on a relatively clean shirt, he looked around his tent, only to discover that he was out of boxers. And clean pants. Cursing, he slipped back into his the pair he'd passed out in and went out to get some breakfast, wincing in the bright morning light.

Carol was hanging clothes on the line as was her usual morning routine, frequently glancing out towards Daryl's lone camp. He'd hit the bottle pretty hard last night and she hoped that he was feeling alright, though she had a feeling he was probably regretting unwrapping those old wounds. The man she'd seen last night was such a change from the unflappable redneck they'd come to respect so much. He seemed so incredibly sad, so human, that her heart had broken at his words. Besides showing yet again how little the group really knew about Daryl Dixon, the events of last night had also piqued her curiosity. Who was Annie?  
What had she been to Daryl? What had become of her? She sighed, wondering if Daryl would ever say.  
It was in his nature to be secretive so it shouldn't surprise her that he'd have such a mysterious past. Didn't mean she had to like it though.  
Looking up she noticed him reluctantly approaching the camp for breakfast before heading out to join the search for Rick and Hershel. She gave him a small wave and a smile which he returned with a scowl, not that she'd expected anything more. He wasn't big on that sort of thing on his best days, the hangover he was no doubt nursing couldn't be helping his disposition.

Daryl scowled when Carol smiled at him, less out of any real annoyance and more because she had his boxers on the clothesline. He could hardly avoid her if she had his underwear, unless he aimed to go commando for whatever remained of his life. Despite constantly complaining about how little laundry Andrea did, Lori often dumped her laundry duties on Carol too so if he really wanted to avoid her he'd eventually have to run around buck naked. As much as he did need to avoid Carol, he didn't exactly relish the idea of hunting in his birthday suit. Defeated, he walked over to retrieve his clothes.

"This stuff dry 'er what?"

Carol shook her head. "Not completely. Your jeans and shirts are going to need another hour or so. Boxers are mostly dry though, just a little damp around the edges."

She paused and bit her lip and for the briefest moment Daryl was reminded of how Annie had done that all the time, how it had been her little nervous tick. Not that it mattered anymore.

"How's the hangover?" she asked, eyes crinkling with concern.

He bit his nails, trying to hide how her expression got to him. "Fine. Ain't yer business anyways."

She smirked, looking almost coy. "I think after holdin your hair back and helping you to bed I've earned the right to ask."

He went to make some smart ass retort but she added that his breakfast was getting cold before he could. Fucking women, he mumbled to himself as he sulked away. Eating quickly, he loaded his pistol and went to meet with the others keeping his eye on Shane as he laid out his search strategy.  
Rolled his eyes at the man's fake dedication to the cause. He knew full well how much Shane would love for Rick to turn up dead, he'd get to be the big shit on the crap pile and Lori would probably hop back on him then and there. He scoffed, Jesus these people were blind. Glancing up briefly when Andrea pointing out Hershel's truck approaching, he could of sworn the asshole looked disapointed. He prepared to leave and go hunting- he wasn't needed here anymore, when he saw a fourth figure in the backseat.

Then all hell broke loose.

Carol sat in the kitchen as Rick and Shane argued like wild animals over what to do with the boy- Randall, not quite listening, instead trying to gauge Daryl's reaction.  
At a first glance he appeared disinterested, but she knew that was his little facade. He took in every minute detail, though no one seemed the wiser.  
Hell, he might even rival Dale with his observant abilities. She looked away quickly when his eyes found hers, but he'd noticed her studying him of course. He noticed everything. Forcing herself to pay attention, she listened to the argument in front of her. From what she could tell Shane wanted to shoot the boy, just in case. It constantly frightened her to think of how quickly Shane had spiraled downwards, she remembered the day he defended her from Ed. She'd been upset at first, but it had been the beginning of her realizing that the whole wasn't under his filthy grasp and that maybe she didn't have to be either. Nowadays she wondered if Shane would do anything at all.  
He tried to disguise it as some sort of nessescity but she knew better, however he tried to spin it his plan was cold blooded murder. Rick of course disagreed and in the end they arranged to take Randall out somewhere after he'd healed. She saw a brief glint of anger in Daryl's eyes as they narrowed, he obviously wasn't happy.  
The discussion abruptly finished, she followed Daryl as he went across the porch and towards the stables, jogging lightly to keep up with his stride.

"You not okay with this?" She asked carefully as she watched him shift his weight back of force in some mix of frustration and agitation.

Daryl scowled. Damn right he wasn't okay with this. "Kid's bad fuckin' news, be best if we took care of it."

"But he's still a kid, he doesn't deserve to be executed."

He growled, she was too fucking trusting. "Did ya hear bout the folks he was wit' or are ya deaf woman?!"

"Maybe he was scared, maybe he didn't have a choice," she countered.

"Ya always got a choice."

"So he made a mistake," she replied with a shrug as if that was all just that simple. "Kids make mistakes."

Her naivety astounded him. Didn't she understand? That kid was cowardly little fuck who'd talk real nice then turn around and stab them all in the back. That kid would behave around Rick and Shane but wouldn't hesitate to hurt anyone weaker than him. Like Carol.

"I known shitheads like him," he snarled, "He ain't no different than that fuckin' husband a' yers."

Carol visibly flinched and he regretted his words instantly. That was the second time in hardly twelve hours that he'd used the memory of Ed to hurt her. Making her feel guilty because of it, like it was her fault that her husband had been a wife-beating creep. Christ, what would Ma think?

Approaching her carefully, he added, "Neither of 'em ever oughta been within twenty miles o' ya. Yer better than that shit."

Her expression changed, her eyes bright and wet. No one had ever told her that she deserved better before, her parents had told her that she was lucky to have Ed, that he was a good, god-fearing man and quite the catch.  
"If she behaved, they chided her, he wouldn't have to hit her, that was all her fault.  
Ed had constantly reminded her how old and unattractive she was, what a disgrace she was in the sack.  
Once he'd gone so far as to say that it was her fault that he wanted Sophia, his own daughter, instead.  
A line had been crossed then and she'd punched him for his sick words.  
That right hook cost her 3 days in the hospital but it was worth it. He could do what he wanted with her, but not her baby girl. Sophia was off limits. Sophia deserved better, not her.

"Thank you," she choked out.

In true Daryl fashion he swayed and fidgeted awkwardly, unsure of his next move.

'"Jus' don't want 'im hurtin' ya 's all..." he mumbled, suddenly regretting his decision to come closer.

At this distance he could smell her, the scent of soap and breakfast cooking mixed with that sweet lavender shampoo she used. He was close enough to study the way he shirt hung a little too big, falling to the side to showcase her long neck and the pale skin below her shoulders. His eyes traced and retraced the way her lips parted slightly and how deep, blue and endless her eyes looked when she tilted her head towards him.  
He appreciated how her jeans hugged her hips in just the right places and though about how easy it would be to lean forward a little and kiss her. Hell, he could take her right there in the privacy of the stables. The thought elicited a reaction from his body and he bit his lips as his jeans became uncomfortably tight.

Groaning inwardly, he looked away from her. Things were never that simple.

"Ya understand where I'm comin' from now?" He asked.

She nodded.

"Good...Imma head out, see if I can catch us sumthin' ta' eat..." he mumbled, walking away with a curt wave.

Carol shook her head in confusion while he sauntered off, for a second it had seemed like he was about to...  
'Don't be foolish', she scolded herself, 'of course he wasn't, you imagined it. You aren't his type anyways.'

Hell right ya ain't, Ed mocked, rednecks like him only like 'em young, blonde and pretty with some big ass tits-and yer none o' the above.

'Shut up Ed.'

What you say to me bitch?

'I said shut the hell up Ed, I don't give a shit what a sick pervert like you thinks of me, so get the hell out of my head!' She screamed mentally, the way she'd wanted to for so many years. There was no reply, and she smiled to herself. Good.


	4. Silence

Chapter 3: Silence

I spoke to you  
In cautious tones  
You answered me with no pretense  
And still I feel I said too much  
My silence is my self defense

And So It Goes- Billy Joel

Annie almost laughed despite herself when she saw Murrie jumping around exicitedly upon her and Daryl entering the house. The little basset hound puppy was practically bouncing off of a very annoyed Merle while the elder Merve just looked up briefly before continuing on with his nap. Leaning down, Daryl began to pet the incredibly happy puppy, who simply rolled over for a tummy rub.

"Wha's his name?"

"Murrie," she replied,"the cranky one over there's his daddy, Merve."

" 'S a good dog," Daryl answered simply, while Murrie looked up, puzzled as to why he was no longer getting rubbed.

"Mutt drools like hell though," Merle pointed out, gesturing towards the small pool of saliva on the floor.

"Basset hounds do that," Annie shrugged.

Merle rolled his eyes while Daryl continued to pet Murrie, but he didn't give a shit. Fuck it, he liked dogs, always had.  
Back when he was a kid he would run through the woods all day with their old greyhound Bella, until he woke up one day and she was gone. He'd never asked what had happened to her, didn't have to. Bella had been Ma's dog, her days had been numbered for awhile. Asking his father would only result in a beating, or worse yet, an answer.  
This way he could at least pretend that she'd gotten away, that she'd found his Ma and they were waiting for him and Merle to find them.  
When Merle figured out his little day-dreams he given him a smack in the back of the head and a stern reminder that no one was waiting for either of 'em, least of all his dumb ass.

"Annie? That you?" asked a woman's voice from somewhere deeper in the house, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah, it's me. I brought company," Annie replied, moving quickly down the main hall and signalling them to follow.

She led them into a quaint, sparsely decorated kitchen. A voluptuous young woman in about her thirties stared them down from her seat at the counter, coffee mug in hand. Her hair was long and dyed a shockingly bright shade of hot pink, hanging down nearly to her waist. Her lips were pierced on both sides and her arms were decked out in a colorful tattoo sleeve depicting roses, vines and chains. She quirked a brow at their entrance, nearly spitting up her coffee as Merle let his eyes rest on her chest.

"Nice to see ya made some new friends Annie, but what the hell are they doin' here?" She asked irately before glancing at Merle and adding "eyes on the face asshole."

Daryl grinned a little as his brother grumbled that there wasn't much worth looking at anyways.

Annie bit her lip, gesturing between her sister and the two brothers. "Gentlemen, meet my sister, Vicks. Vicks, meet Daryl and Merle. She's just helpin' me out fer a couple 'a weeks, she works as a tattoo artist in Atlanta usually."

"Fuckin' charmed I'm sure," Vicks drawled sarcastically, glaring at Merle accusingly. "Ya still ain't told me what the gents 're doin' in the house at four in the fuckin' mornin'. I assume Jack's got somethin' to do with this?"

"Jack Ass wrecked our truck, so I suggest ya drop the fuckin' attitude bitch," Merle hissed.

'"Fer chrissakes Merle, calm down," Daryl muttered.

"Or what?" Vicks goaded him,"You got somethin' to tell me Cable Guy?"

"Stop it!" Annie snapped, surprising herself. "Both of ya! It's been a long night and we're all tired, we can discuss the situation t'morrow. There's no reason t' be fightin'. They're just stayin' here 'till their truck's fixed up Vicks, so calm down, alright?"

Vicks nodded grudgingly, though she still eyed the men suspiciously. "Sorry. It's been a weird fuckin' night is all. Puts me in a bit of a mood."

Annie smiled appreciatively while Merle simply grunted. Figuring that was as far as she would get she nibbled on her lip nervously and mumbled for the Dixons to follow her upstairs to their rooms.

Pointing towards two doors on the left she explained,"Those are ya'lls rooms. Nothin' fancy but they're comfortable enough. Me and Vick's rooms are a little ways down the hall, so holler if ya need somethin' and make yourselves at home," she finished with a small, welcoming smile before waving and heading back downstairs.

"Need some coffee?" Vicks asked sympathectically when Annie re-entered the kitchen.

"Yes..No..Maybe..I dunno," she yawned in reply.

"You need coffee. What's eatin' ya anyways?"

Shrugging her off, she replied casually, "just the crash."

"I know you've seen him pull that shit plenty of times, it doesn't usually bug you like this," Vicks pointed out.

Annie sighed, burying her face in her hands.

"...He tried to hit me Vicks, when I said i couldn't pay bail...He hasn't done that in years. I think he's getting worse," she whispered quietly, as if speaking louder would make it more real somehow.

Her sister snarled. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill him."

"It's fine, he didn't actually-"

"He shouldn't of tried for fuck's sakes! Jesus Annie, why the hell do ya even bother?"

"He's our brother Vicks..." Annie mumbled.

"Didn't stop me from cuttin' his druggie ass outta my life."

I admire you're pragmatism, Annie thought to herself. She'd often considered cutting her losses where Jack was concerned, but when it came down to it she didn't have it in her. Vicks was the tough one, she just kept on keeping on. Ma had always joked that she was glue, she fixed things and forced everyone in the family to stick with each other. That was her role, leaving Jack to his own devices was never in the cards for her.

"He can get better," she insisted. "He's done it before."

Vicks walked over and passed her the coffee, giving her sister a short little hug. "That was a long time ago sis."

"I know," Annie admitted,"but that doesn't mean I should stop trying."

"It's your life, ya chose wha' you do with it I s'pose.." she drawled pointedly before changing the subject. "So, ya gonna try to get some shut eye or what?"

"Don't think I'll be able to. I'll just watch a movie or somethin'."

"Alright, well Im turnin' in, I've done enough damage for one night."

Annie smirked sarcastically,"You? Damage? Never, yer a constant ray of sunshine every wakin' moment."

"Hardy-har-har, yer a regular Bill Murray. Night."

"G'night."

Chugging the rest of her coffee, Annie walked out into the living-room to try and find something to watch, hopefully something that could take her mind off of Jack. Tomorrow she'd have to find him a lawyer since the guy she usually hired, Terry, refused to represent him anymore after he nearly ran over Terry's poor cat. She'd also have to get her truck out of lock up and figure out what the charges were. But that was tomorrow and for now she was going to curl up of the couch and try to relax with one of her favorite movies.  
Clicking play, she got herself comfortable with the dogs and tried to enjoy.

Daryl lay awake in the comfortable king sized bed, engaged in a staring contest with the ceiling. It had been over an hour since he'd gone to bed, but sleep still evaded him. As comfortable and pleasant as the room was, he'd never slept anywhere but in the old shack he and Merle had inherited from their daddy. Well, there had been a period where he'd gone from bar to some skank's house every night, but that was more passing out than sleeping.  
He could hear Merle pacing about in the next room and groaned. He must of taken something. Over the years he'd adapted to Merle's drug, but that didn't mean it didn't bug the hell outta him.  
There was no way he'd be able to get to sleep listening to Merle ride out whatever hallucination was running through his brother's drug addled brain. Resigning himself to that fact, he pulled his clothes back on and started to wander back downstairs for some coffee.  
Despite Annie telling him to holler if he needed anything, he decided to let her sleep, she'd had a long night.  
No matter how many times you dealt with your brother and the cops, it never got any easier, if anything it just got more frustrating. He walked out to the top of the stairs, pausing for a moment. He heard voices and he could of sworn he heard Val Kilmer clearly say "I'm your Huckleberry." What the fuck? Was someone watching Tombstone?  
Hurrying down to the living-room he saw Annie snuggled on the couch with Murrie and Merve, watching Johnny Ringo say something threatening on a modest television. Murrie wagged his tail and perked his head up when Daryl entered the room.

Noticing him, Annie glanced up and shot him a friendly, sleepy little smile."Trouble sleepin'?"

He nodded but didn't elaborate. He didn't know what her reaction to Merle shooting up in his room would be but he figured he wouldn't be good.

Pointing towards the movie, she grinned sheepishly. "Tombstone, it's one of my favorites. Ya seen it before?"

"Few times, it's a damn good movie." He stared at his socks, remembering that from what he could tell, she didn't cuss. "Pard'n the language."

She chuckled, shrugging off the apology. "You hear my sister's swearin' earlier? Believe me, I don't mind. You wanna watch?"

He spoke slowly, eyes glued to the floorboards. "Don't wanna bother ya..."

"Ain't gonna bother me. Even if ya do I can't do nothin' since I offered, so ya may's well just watch the movie." She joked, gesturing towards the empty cushion at the end of the couch.

He mumbled something akin to a thanks and sank into the couch cushion, failing to suppress a small grin when Murrie trotted over to him begging for another tummy rub.

"I am sorry 'bout Vicks yellin' at Merle and ya," she apologized softly, biting her lip again. "She's just a bit overprotective is all."

"It's alright."

He was used to people assuming he and Merle were up to no good, it was why he figured it was better to just stay the fuck away from folks. Admittedly though, where Merle was concerned it was usually true, but everyone was supposed to be innocent until proven guilty right? Not the other way around.

"She probably just figured ya'll were Jack's friends," she explained hastily. "I've had problems with a couple of 'em before."

He grunted in understanding, trying not to let the thought of what kind of trouble Jack Ass's friends may of given her get to him- though he decided that if he met any of these shits, he'd look for an excuse to punch them out.

"Jack wasn't always like that you know," she whispered, so quiet that at first he thought he might of imagined it.

He turned to face her, blue eyes meeting her green ones. "Well I figured, ain't like folks pop out like tha'."

She smirked, the expression surprisingly cynical. "No, I s'pose not. I just meant...He got clean once, awhile back...He use to try, ya know?"

Daryl remembered when he'd been 16, maybe 17. He'd been a drop out for a couple of years, living with Merle and doing odd jobs when he could. Merle had been about 28 or so. It was the first time Merle tried to quit meth. He lasted barely over a week and broke three of Daryl's ribs in the progress.  
There were numerous other attempts at getting clean and despite the resulting injuries Daryl suffered he'd been proud of Merle for trying.  
It was a chance, a shot at their lives getting a little bit closer to normal. After around six months of his drug use being on-again/off-again however Merle gave up his efforts.

"Yeah, I do."

She sighed, resting her elbow on the arm of the couch and her cheek in her hand. "I don't think I'd mind it so much when he messed up if he was at least tryin' t' get better."

He started to absentmindedly chew his thumbnail, suddenly bothered by the similarities between their situations.  
Like lookin' in a little broken mirror ain't it Darylena, his old man sneered in the back of his mind.  
Daryl felt his face contort into a scowl at the familar taunt. His old man had called him alot of things, but faggot and Darylena were his go-to put downs and they pissed him off to no end. Even Merle wouldn't call him Darylena unless he was looking for a fist fight.  
Shuddup, he snapped back mentally. Yer dead.  
Don't stop a nut-job like you from imaginin' me though now does it Darylena?  
Bastard had a point, wasn't like he could go beat up his subconcious. Fucking subconcious.

"Daryl? Are ya alright?" Annie asked carefully, forest colored eyes brimming with concern while she reached forward slowly to try and place her hand on his forehead.

He flinched back, grumbling at her. "I'm fine! Wha' the hell 're ya doin'?"

Her eyes dropped to the ground like she'd been hurt. "Ya looked like you felt sick or somethin', I was tryin' to see if ya had a fever is all...Guess I should'a waited for an answer first," she admitted with a shy, embarrassed glance.

"I feel fine," he insisted a little more forcefully than needed.

"Okay...Sorry, didn't mean to bother ya..."

" 'S al'ight," he assured her, surprising himself. "Ya don't gotta apologize every ten seconds ya know, I ain't blamin' ya fer nothin'. What happened tonight weren't none of that yer fault, just life bein' a bitch is all."

She smiled kindly, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Nice of ya t' say so."

"Jus' the truth is all," he growled, suddenly frustrated by her constant stream of apologies,"I'm goin' t' bed."

"Oh, okay goodnigh-" she started to say, only to notice that he'd already left.

Curling herself up closer with the dogs, she laid her head on the couch cushions while Murrie and even Merve gave her sympathetic licks.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly as she felt a strong hand nudging the middle of her back. She was tangled among her filligree patterned bedsheets in a simple white nightdress. When had she gone to bed? She bit her lip and fought off exhaustion as she struggled to remember the details, only to be nudged in the back again.

"C'mon darlin', I made ya breakfast and everythin', don't leave me waitin'," teased a husky male voice.

Reluctantly she looked up from the bed to see Daryl's icy eyes staring at her. His hair was as disheveled as the bedsheets and he wore only a pair of blue plaid boxers, allowing her to appreciate his strong physique. He smiled coyly and somehow she wasn't surprised to see him sitting there at the edge of her bed. It was normal, natural as breathing for him to be there, with her, she decided.

"Sleepin' Beauty awakens," he drawled, grinning.

"Ya made breakfast?" She asked, doubtful. This seemed to be the most surprising development- somehow, she just knew Daryl didn't do breakfast.

"Yep. Poured the cereal in a bowl just the way ya like it."

She smiled sleepily. "I'm a lucky woman."

"Damn right."

His eyes went traced over her slowly and she chuckled self conciously. "What?"

"Nuthin', ya just look real pretty when ya smile like that."

She rolled her eyes,"Yeah right, it's six in the morning-I look like somethin' from Night Of The Living Dead and ya know it."

"Prettiest zombie in the movie then," he joked, chuckling more when she tossed a pillow at him playfully, wrestling her down against the bed gently.

"Y' know maybe ya don't gotta get up jus' yet..." Daryl mumbled softly against her cheek.

She didn't bother vocalizing her approval of the idea, she simply pressed her mouth against his hungrily, nibbling and tugging on his lower lip. He braced his arms against her back underneath her nightdress, holding her closer to him as she tangled her fingers in his hair. He drew a line of kisses across her jaw and down her neck, carefully removing her troublesome clothing-

"Anniebelle, time to wake the fuck up already," snapped Vicks as she tossed another couch cushion at her, forcing her back into reality.

She jumped up, wiping sleep from her eyes and, she hoped, all traces of that dream. Dreams like that simply did not happen to her, ever.  
Vicks raised a brow and Annie knew she must be red as a lobster from embarassment. She noticed in horror that she'd even worked up a light sweat.  
It was a fantastic dream though, her inner voice teased.  
It was a ridiculous dream, she argued back, enjoyable yes, but completely insane! I just met this guy for God's sake and he's obviously not interested, even if I was, which I'm not.  
Whatever helps you close your eyes at night Sleepin' Beauty.

Ignoring the comment, though it sent a fresh flush to her cheeks, she turned to Vicks. "Wha' time is it anyways?"

Vicks shrugged nonchalantly. " 'Bout nine or so."

"Nine!? Ya have gotta be kiddin me, I'm s'pose to be up by six!"

"Calm the fuck down, I just figured ya could use the rest."

Jumping from the couch, Annie explained in rushed tones. "I have to make those boys breakfast, call Kris about the truck, get groceries, do laundry and find Jack a new lawyer! I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"I'll help, I'll get breakfast started and take care of the laundry," offered her sister.

"You're my savior."

"Hell yeah."

Grinning, Annie ran up the stairs as quickly as she could manage without tripping, dashing into her room to change into a fresh dress. She settled on a light red summer frock, one of her favorites, that flowed and twirled when she moved around in it.  
Who you trying to impress with that little number?  
No one, she snapped mentally, shush up. Blushing uncontrollably, she ran downstairs and prepared to face the day.


	5. Ignite Your Bones

Chapter 4: Ignite Your Bones

Lights will guide you home  
and ignite your bones  
and I will try  
to fix you.

Fix You- Coldplay

Daryl was pacing outside the small run down wooden shack on the edge of Hershel's property where Randall was being held.  
He'd been coming here more and more often as the days since they'd brought the little bastard back to camp dragged on, just observing, making sure it was secure.  
These little walks weren't required, Rick had handcuffed the kid and insisted that they didn't need to post a guard because there was no way he was getting out.  
Still, Daryl found himself prowling the area every time his mind wandered, as it did so often lately, to Carol. It seemed like every time she gave him his laundry, or every time she chatted to him in her polite little way, he'd go out and look over the shack afterwards- just in case. It wasn't that he didn't trust Rick to keep the place secure, he did. He just refused to take any risks where Carol was concerned.  
Occasionally he could hear the prisoner in question grunt or groan in discomfort, or sob pathetically. The first time Daryl had come out this way the kid had made the mistake of asking for some water. He'd snapped in reply that he hoped the kid died of thirst and eliminated the whole damn problem and the shithead hadn't talked to him since. Just sort of whimpered whenever he heard the hunters footsteps.  
Daryl wished the kid would just die off already, save him the torture of waiting for Rick and Shane to get off their asses and take the sumbitch out, do what they felt needed to be done.

But y'know that ain't what's gotta go down don't ya lil' brother? Merle pointed out, a devious tone in his voice.

Even as a specter in Daryl's mind he was always pulling strings, he always had a million motivations for everything he did, almost all of them malicious.

Ya could do it lil' brother, he's all chained up in there wit' no way a' fightin' back. Hell, even if he did fight back kid weighs wha'? Buck fi'dy soakin' wet? Even a pussy like you could take him. Ya know it's wha' oughta be done.

It's Rick's call Merle, he hissed back, stay outta it.

Ya want him goin' after yer woman? Him and his men puttin' their hands all o'er that sweet piece 'a ass?

Carol ain't mine, never was, ain't never gonna be. Now fuck off.

Really Darylena? Ain't even got the balls to claim the bitch yer checkin' out? Merle chuckled harshly. See wha' happens when Ole' Merle ain't around t' make a man outta ya?

I said fuck off Merle, an' Carol ain't no bitch.

Merle's tone changed from one of mockery to deadly seriousness. You fuckin' wit' me boy? Ya want t' leave this piece a' shit around yer woman? You wanna take another risk? Jesus, this is a new level of dumbass lil' brother, even fer you.

Hell 're ya sayin' Merle?

I don't gotta remind ya what tends t' happen when ya take risks where yer broad's safety is concerned. Le's not ferget the last one.

Fuck you Merle.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted by the idea of simply dealing with Randall himself. Getting him out of the way would be better, for the group's safety. For Carol's safety.  
He wouldn't have to worry about Randall's group being led back, or Randall himself cornering Carol or another of the women when they were alone- which Carol so often was since they'd found Sophia. She'd be safer, but at the end of the day he knew that the chaos it would bring.  
He'd lose the little piece of Rick's trust he'd finally secured and Carol, though more secure, would think of him as a murderer. They were unstable enough as it was, he wouldn't aggravate the situation. So instead he paced in front of the prisoners shack and observed.

Carol was out on the front porch with Patricia, who'd she began to spend so much time since Sophia had... She shoved the image of her little girls undead body tumbling to the ground out of her mind. She didn't want to think about it.  
Anyways, since that day most of the group had decided to cut off contact with her, as if she'd contracted some sort of leprosy.  
Rick avoided her out of guilt and because though she knew he'd tried, she couldn't help but remember that he'd gone after her baby that first awful day.  
That he'd returned empty handed. Some small part of her would always hate him for it.  
Andrea avoided out of some sort of desperation to be stronger, as though simply by being near someone as fragile as a grieving mother she'd become weak.  
Lori avoided her out of self righteousness. Carol once caught the tail end of their First Lady denouncing her for not attending Sophias funeral.  
"If it had been Carl, I would of gone," the Queen Bee had insisted.  
The nerve. As if that woman had half a clue in hell as to what she was going through.  
Patricia however, was different. She didn't judge, pretend to understand or shy away from her. She was simply there and it meant more than Carol had words to express. The woman was just good company and she was grateful for it.

"Dear lord, someone certainly gave their jeans a work through," Patricia exclaimed as she held out a pair of pants she'd been mending, riddled with holes.

Carol chuckled while she hemmed Carl's pants. "Those are probably Daryls. His jeans always get so homeless."

Patricia grinned, continuing with her work. "I meant to ask you, what's our Fearless Hunter's last name? I never caught it but I swear to the lord I seen him somwheres before all this hell in a hand-basket stuff."

"Really? Well I'm intrigued. His last name's Dixon."

Patricia snapped her fingers, momentarily distracted from her sewing. "Daryl Dixon! Why o' course! Knew I known him from somewheres 'round here- he's Annie Carlson's man. Lived with her down at Wilson's Creek Inn in town."

Carol raised her brow as those fragments of Daryl's story came together. He'd been with Annie? They'd lived here together?

"Really?" She asked, incredibly interested. It made sense, Daryl's innate knowledge of the woods in the area, how he'd never worried about trekking into unknown territory. He'd known exactly where they where.

"Really," Patricia replied happily, thinking of the days before the infection. "I was Annies mothers nurse for a while up at the hospital. Poor woman was in a coma, happened out of nowhere, turned out she had brain cancer. Annie ran the inn with Daryl there's help. I seen him a couple of times, but I always dealt with Annie, must of been why it took me so long to recognize him."

"What was she like?" Carol couldn't help but ask, feeling a pang of..Jealousy? No, she decided. That would be ridiculous. Curiosity more likely.

"Annie? Well, she was a real sweet girl, always helpin' folks out and runnin' after that brother of hers...I guess I oughta ask Rambo there wha' happened to her," Patricia sighed as she came back to reality.

Carol shook her head,"you probably shouldn't. He isn't big on talking about stuff, tends to make him angry."

Patricia drawled sarcastically. "Because the rest of the time he's so darn pleasant?"

Carol nearly laughed at that. She had a point, it did seem like Daryl existed in a perpetual scowl.  
Patricia moved on to complain and wonder how on god's green earth Jimmy's clothes got so torn up, but Carol was still dwelling on this new bit of information.  
The idea of Daryl living small town life was difficult to picture at first. He was in the woods so often it wouldn't strike anyone as odd to hear he'd been born there, or simply existed in the undergrowth his whole life. He was always part of the forest. Yet as she continued to think about the things she'd learned about the youngest Dixon it didn't seem so strange anymore.  
He adapted, it was what he did. When they were living in the quarry, he'd adapted to the situation, when they were on the road or when they'd moved to farm he'd adapted again. He became whatever the situation demanded. It was what he did.

"Carol?" Patricia asked, waving a hand in her face. "You in there?"

"Oh, sorry, I was just..Thinking."

Shrugging her off with another wave of her hand the blonde continued. "That's alright, I was just askin' ya if you'd mind running Daryl back his jeans."

"Of course not," Carol smiled, gesturing to the other mended pair on Patricia's lap. "Want me to run those out too?"

Patrica shook her head, a coy grin forming. "Naw, These here are T-Dog's, I can handle it- got the path to his tent memorized."

Carol chuckled. "You and T-Dog, huh?"

"Tha' would be a yes." Patricia smiled, more softly this time. "Well, things between me and Otis weren't perfect, even before...My family always taught me that divorce was a sin so we never went through with it, but for the last few years we were more like best friends than married folk."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, coulda left anytime, either of us, just never had the guts. Things with T-Dog are simpler, more straight forward. He ain't the type to leave a woman wonderin'."

Carol smirked. "If only they were all like that. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks. Now grab the jeans and get goin', I'm thinkin' of showin' T-Dog the barn."

"He's seen the barn."

Grinning mischeviously and waggling her eyebrows Patricia joked, "not like this he ain't."

Walking away Carol promised,"I'll try and keep Carl away from the barn for a couple of hours."

" 'Preciate it."

Smiling to herself as she headed out to Daryl's solitary little camp she thought of how completely insane it seemed that two people could find each other in the middle of all this. Yet that didn't stop it from happening. T-Dog never talked much, but from what she did know of him he'd had an ex-wife, and a small son.  
A toddler. He'd never said, but she assumed they were gone. Patricia had just lost her husband. Even after losing so much two people still managed to connect, to find their missing puzzle piece in this crazy world. It almost gave her hope.

Daryl glanced up when he heard Carol's soft footsteps, almost as quiet as his own, approach him. As usual her arms were filled with clothes and she tossed his jeans and a few shirts to him. He showed his appreciation in his usual way, with a nod and something that almost resembled a smile.  
She smiled back as was routine, but instead of making some polite chit-chat or heading on her way she just stood there, as if debating with herself.

"C'mon then," he grunted, "spit it out woman."

She looked up to him, confusion in her eyes. "You lived here, before all of this." It wasn't a question, which meant she already knew.

His guts dropped to his boots then. He hadn't told anyone about living in town. If he had, they'd make a fuss as if they gave a shit and he neither needed nor wanted the group's pity. They didn't need to know shit about his life before all this crap and he preferred it that way.

"Who told ya?"

"Patricia said she recognized you."

Figured, he thought he'd seen Patricia somewhere before but didn't dwell on it. Whoever she was it wasn't someone he'd had much contact with, most of his time had been spent with Annie. The locals, from what Vicks had told him, didn't think much of him and Merle anyways. It was just his damn luck that the broad had recognized him.

He growled. "Woman oughta mind her own goddamn business...Yeah, so I lived 'ere fer a lil' while. Wha' of it?"

"Nothing," Carol sighed. "Just wondered why you didn't tell anyone."

Because he could get lost in remembering when things had been truly, consistently good. Because sooner or later he'd have to pull himself out of the memories again because the truth of it was that all those people were dead, had been for months and because when he came back to reality the guilt and fear would be waiting for him. Because remembering the good times made it all so much worse.

"Does it matter?" He asked gruffly, rearranging his clothes in his tent.

She chuckled mirthlessly, running slender fingers through her short hair. "In the grand scheme of things? Probably not, but it matters to me and that's something, I guess. Not much, but it's still something."

It was something, more than Carol could possibly imagine.

"It's just better t' act like it never happened som'times..." he mumbled huskily, " 'ts all gone anyways. It's best t' ferget 'bout it."

She nodded, understanding, before changing the subject. "So..You bring back something decent for me to cook?"

"Wha' ya gettin' tired of squirrel?" He drawled, his tone teasing.

"With all the squirrels you've been catching recently you ought to give 'em some time to recover before you drive them into extinction." She joked, earning a smirk.

"Well then it's yer lucky day..." He said with a small grin, reaching into his bag and dramatically revealing a plump dead raccoon. "Looks like yer gonna be roastin' 'coon tonight."

"Daryl that's amazing!"

"Ain't tha' big a deal," he mumbled with faux-humility, even though he was secretly enjoying the praise.

"Of course it is," Carol insisted. "Lord knows if it wasn't for all the hunting you do we'd starve in a week."

"Don't talk like that," he hissed, deeply perturbed by the idea.

"Like what?"

"All morbid and shit...Don't want ya thinkin' like that," he growled.

"The whole world's ending Daryl, I think this is as a good a time to be morbid as any," she said softly, another joyless smiling spreading across her lips.

Those smiles broke him a little, because he knew there should be joy there. She should be happy, living her life somewhere with Sophia, away from that Ed bastard. With someone who took care of 'em, treated them the way they deserved. Sophia would never be able to experience that, but there was hope for Carol. She'd earned the right to move on, be safe, find someone who could pick up the pieces and make things better for her. She didn't deserve to look so goddamn hopeless. A little piece of him cracked, because he knew he couldn't bring her that, didn't know how. But he could protect her.  
He knew how to do that.

"World ain't endin', it's jus' different is all," he grumbled, staring at her straight on. "We still got a shot, it ain't gonna be easy or nothin' but we can still figure this shit out. Ya can still have a fuckin' life 'ere Carol. Ain't shit gonna happen to ya if I get a say in it so ya can stop yer worryin', a'ight?"

Those deep blue eyes of hers were wide, shocked, like she couldn't believe her ears. She approached him, coming close enough to stare into his eyes head on.

"We?" She asked softly, a strange but not unpleasant look coming across her face.

He fidgited a little, lying to himself that he wished she wasn't standing so goddamn close to him, because truth was he enjoyed it, the sensation of standing chest-to-chest with her. Dizzying as it was he relished the feel of it, the strange look in her eyes and the way her scent overtook him again.  
Her head tilted forward, but it was different this time, almost expectant in the way her lips parted slowly.  
Holy fuck he wanted to kiss her, to show her something better, to prove that she was worth something. He felt her hand on the crook of his arm, carefully tugging him forward and he realized in a bewildering mix of shock and awe that she wanted him to kiss her.  
The recognition of that fact was almost enough to make him moan. He reminded himself weakly that it wouldn't end well and began to mumble an explanation.

"Jus' sayin' that I got yer back," he started before looking into the oceanic blue of her eyes and the curve of her lower lip and abandoning that course of action entirely.  
"Fuck it," he growled gruffly before pushing her against him and crushing his mouth on hers, taking pleasure in the soft gasp she made as he did it.


	6. Always Around Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a lil' different, instead of the usual format this is a Daryl/Carol chap!  
> This is mainly because there are adult situations in this chap. It's a Daryl/Carol scene, I was originally gonna wait 'till next chap to do this but the muses disagreed and I figured that it'd make ya'll happy anyways.  
> It's not overly graphic or anything, but in case you don't want to read it, just wait till next chap and we'll be back to Annie.  
> Tell me what you think!

Chapter 5: Always Around Me

Darling you're with me always around me.  
Only love, only love.  
Darling I feel you under my body.  
Only love, only love.  
Gimme shelter, or show me heart.  
Come one love, come on love!  
Watch me fall apart, watch me fall apart.

Only Love- Ben Howard

Carol was momentarily blindsided by the kiss, honestly not believing he would respond to her advances when his lips had suddenly crashed against hers for dear life. When her mind finally regained the ability to think, to realize that he was kissing her, desperately- furiously even, her mouth reacted with just as much force. Their tongues were interweaving expertly, primally, as their lips meshed together in a way that showed that they had both been waiting on this for a very long time. They bit and tugged at each others mouths, Daryl growling fiercely as his calloused hands found their way into the ass of her jeans, eliciting a moan as he squeezed her against him.  
He decided he thoroughly enjoyed the sound of her moaning, applying pressure and earning more of the primitive sounds.  
Her arms draped around him, sylphlike fingers intertwined in his hair while another soft hand dragged long fingernails across his shoulder, piercing the skin ever so slightly. He groaned at the sensation, the sound deep and raspy with need.  
He'd had enough of ignoring this, denying himself what he wanted, what he truly needed. He would keep her safe. He wouldn't fail this time.  
But first, he would make her his. Finally, mind-blowingly his.  
His teeth and tongue ran like wildfire down her neck, across her collarbone and shoulders. This would most definitely leave a mark, but she didn't give a damn.  
Let the others think what they wished- for this moment she had him and she wouldn't regret a second of it.

"Tent," he hissed into her ear as he nibbled on the lobe, briefly remembering himself.

They couldn't do it here, out in the open like this, though his body certainly had other ideas. His tent was barely a step away, certainly they could hold their horses for a second?

"Tent," she gasped back in agreement, breath shallow and hot with exertion and want.

They moved quickly towards the small canvas structure, sticky with sweat.  
What couldn't have been more than a second passed murderously slowly for Daryl, and he growled when they finally came to the tents entrance.  
Grabbing fistfuls of the back of Carol's burdensome shirt he nearly threw her against him before driving both of them against the hard ground.

Worried that he'd hurt her in the process, left a bruise in his impatience, he traced his thumb along her cheekbone softly. "Ya a'ight? Did I hurt ya?'

She shook her head quickly, short flyaway bits of her hair flopping side-to-side and blue eyes wide and bright. Jesus she was beautiful. "I'm more than alright, you didn't hurt me a bit."

The way she said it made him remember how badly she had been hurt before and he leaned in to kiss her carefully, looking almost timid.

Their mouths met again, gentler this time, slow enough to allow her time to think before he broke the kiss. "Yer sure 'bout this?"

She nodded, completely without hesitation. "Yes Daryl, I want this. I-I want you."

The words were enough to make him almost beam with pride before going into another frenzy of urgent kisses along her neckline, though more docile and steady than before. Her hips rocked instinctively in response to the feeling of his tongue and teeth trailing across her jawline, the stubble along his chin tickling her as his kisses dipped lower, trailing along her abdomen. It was exactly how she'd imagined it would be, only better.  
His kisses along her body switched back and forth from rough to soft, lips to teeth.  
Just like him, she thought, feeling the roughness of his stubble covered jaw followed by the smoothness of his cheek.  
Daryl Dixon was rough around the edges in every possible way, all harsh words and cruel stares paired with support and loyalty unlike anything she'd ever known. He was an enigma, a puzzle box meant only for her to solve. A challenge that only she was allowed to face.  
His left hand grabbed a fistful of her shirt, his other hand sliding up her bare back behind it, propping her up while he quickly removed the irksome garment.  
He allowed his eyes to linger over her for a few moments, drinking in every minute detail off the gorgeous, treasured, amazing woman in front of him.

She was blushing, cheeks pink and forehead shiny with sweat in a way that made her glow, breasts rising and falling shakily inside her thin, worn out white lace bra. There was a small pattern of freckles along the top of one breast, matching the ones on the ridge of her nose.  
A few old cigarette burns sat beside them, and there was a single scar, no doubt from a broken bottle, along her ribs. Her ribs poked out a little, eye sockets hollow from nights spent hungry, scared and exhausted. Her eyes were shining, alight and glittering.  
And she was looking at him, like he was the only thing that mattered, like everything was somehow better, healed.  
Pulling her towards him by the nape of her neck, he brought her into another kiss, her warm tongue entangling itself with his slowly while she began to unfasten his shirt buttons. Daryl had never taken his shirt off with a woman before, he tried to avoid removing it at all, hating the sight of the twisted marks and scars along his back and torso.  
Yet somehow it made sense with Carol, he didn't have to worry about her pitying him, looking down on him for not being able to defend himself from Merle or his father. She understood. She knew so much about him without ever being told, instinctively knowing his little quirks and troubles.  
He was a lock and she the key. She just knew, no explanation needed.  
He removed his arms from the shirt and she bit on his lower lip and tugged gently, prying a moan from his lips before kissing and nibbling her way down his neck and onto his exposed chest and teasing the trail of hair just above the waistband of his jeans.  
He moaned again when she began kissing each scar, running a hand through her short hair before efficiently removing her bra.  
He stroked the smooth flesh gently, rolling her nipple under his thumb and smiling when it went hard and she groaned appreciatively, sighing his name.  
"Daryl-"

No sound, he decided, was better than the sound of his name on her lips, rolling with pleasure off her tongue. He was instantly addicted to it.  
He needed more of it, and so he began unbuckling her jeans, sliding them along with her panties down, cupping her ass as he did it.  
She undid his belt and he crawled over her, bracing himself against her shoulders.

"I'll be gentle," he promised softly, eyes searching hers for any resistance.

"I trust you," she whispered, voice low and seductive.

That was all he'd needed to hear and with a growling moan he pressed himself inside her, thrusting gently at first until he felt her back arch in pleasure.  
Then he picked up speed, moving faster and deeper into her while she groaned his name, begging him not to stop, to keep going harder and faster.

He was so close to the edge already but he obliged, curses flying from his mouth. "Jesus-fucking-Christ Carol!"

He growled, shaking with titillation as Carol spasmed with pleasure beneath him, more satisfied than she'd ever been in her life as they rolled together on a wave of bliss.  
Daryl laid back next to her, face turned towards her as he slowly, gingerly reached out his arm, wrapping it protectively around her waist.  
He traced the curve of her lower lip with his thumb, smiling softly while she beamed beside him, placing a soft kiss on his throat as he rested his lips on her forehead.  
Later he would tell Rick and Shane to get off their asses and take that sumbitch Randall the hell away from here.  
Later he'd talk Rick into adding a couple of watch shifts to watch out for that assholes group.  
But for now she was with him, she was safe, he would watch over her and that was all that mattered.

Daryl opened his eyes slowly, smiling at the sight of Annie tangled with him in those ridiculously girly-ass filigree bedsheets of hers.  
She opened her eyes, grinning a little when she caught him staring, her forest colored eyes sparkling.

"Like what ya see?" She teased, propping herself up on her elbows, sheets sliding down to reveal the angel wings tattooed across her slender shoulders.

"Well, I ain't stupid," he growled, reaching an arm around and kissing her carefully, timidly on the lips.

Even after all this time he half-expected her to push him away, to shove him out of bed and tell him to get his white trash ass out of her house.  
She never did, instead kissing him back, tasting like coffee and those butterscotch candies she loved so damn much.  
He was always amazed by how soft her lips were and how sweet she tasted. He wondered how the hell he got so lucky before he stopped thinking all together, focusing instead on how her hot little tongue felt in his cool mouth.

She broke the kiss, smiling almost giddily. "Happy birthday Daryl."

"I gettin' my present soon?" He asked, teasing her with his tongue as he traced intricate patterns of kisses along her jaw.

She sighed, leaning into his attentions, when her eyes widened suddenly. "Present! Right! I'll be right back!" She gasped out, jumping out of bed and letting the sheets fall to reveal every gorgeous inch of her as she dashed over to the closet.

He groaned, rolling onto his back, staring at the way her hips swayed as she moved and how her ass perked up as she reached into the closet.  
The want, the need to have her back in bed with him, putting the messy sheets in a further disarray was growing.

"How much longer ya gon' be over there?"

"Not much longer," she quipped cheerily. "It's in here somewheres..."

"I don't need a present 'er nuthin'," he tried, growing restless. "I got you, tha's all I'm ever gon' want."

"That's sweet, but I already got ya one so ya may's well have it, we can get back t' business soon as I find it." She drawled, seeing straight through him, as usual.

"Well ya best find it soon 'else I'm gonna hafta come on o'er there," he growled, voice low and husky.

"Got it! Now close your eyes-"

"Ya gotta be shittin' me."

"Please?" She pouted, hiding something behind her back. "I wanted to do a big reveal 'r somethin'."

He felt his insides turn to jelly and his will crumble when she looked at him, so after a dramatic roll of his eyes, he closed them. "Fine. They're closed."

"Okay...Ta-da! You can open 'em now!"

He did and cracked a grin. She was holding out a motorcycle jacket, genuine leather from the looks of it, stitched along the back with an ornate angel wings motif. It was well made and must of cost her a decent wad of cash but he had to admit, it looked pretty damn badass.

"Do ya like it?" She asked nervously, nibbling on her lip while he took it in his hands and looked it over.

He nodded, feeling the smooth leather and tracing the design with his thumb. "Yeah. It's real nice. Prob'ly the nicest thin' I ever owned."

She literally beamed with pride, crawling over top of him and the sheets happily. "It reminded me of ya and it kinda looks like my tattoo...So you'll never forget 'bout me."

"I weren't go'n t' ferget 'bout ya anyways, like I said, ain't stupid." He growled, kissing her deeply and wrapping an arm around her hips.

She kissed him back, tangling their tongues together until she came up gasping for air. "Ain't ya gonna try it on?"

"Later," he mumbled into her ear,"but I bet ya'd look real good in it."

She grinned coyly. "Well," she teased, pretending to mull it over. "It is your birthday..."

"Damn woman, wha' 're ya waitin' fer this time?" He scowled.

"Nothin', it's just kinda funny when ya scowl like that."

"Sadist."

She chuckled, slipping into the jacket and nothing else, straddling him. Daryl was pretty damn sure it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen in his life.  
He pressed his lips against her long legs, kissing and nibbling them. Her nails dug into his torso, dragging down slowly as a moan escaped her.  
Something struck him as different about the noise, deeper than usual, but he ignored it.  
Part of what he loved about being with Annie was how unexpected she could be. Sweet little southern girl one night and sultry and seductive the next.  
So he didn't notice any wrong at first when she suddenly acted a little rougher, her nails drawing blood and her teeth biting softly at his chest.  
Then harder, then harder, until she drew blood and he shot straight up in pain, a single bright red bite mark bleeding vigorously near his ribs.

"Jesus! Watch it Annie-," he snapped, looking up to tell her to be gentler only to see her bright green eyes had turned the color of sour milk.  
Her normally lightly tanned skin had a bluish pallor to it and she was moaning and snapping her jaws like a rabid coyote.  
He glanced down briefly, expecting to see the legs he'd been embracing seconds earlier, only to see mangled stumps.  
Destroyed flesh and muscle hung down in strips off of the bloodstained bone, a disgusting hunk of what had been her left leg hanging on by a tendon.  
A choked sob broke out of his throat, quickly followed by vomit.  
Before he could react or begin to comprehend what the hell had happened, her scabbed hands wrapped around his throat, nails digging in until he couldn't scream anymore because all that came up was blood. She snarled then, focusing in on the blood and ripping her teeth into the wound, tearing his throat away-

Daryl sat up then, barely keeping from shouting out and begging Annie to stop. He carefully scanned his surroundings, noticing nothing out of place.  
His crossbow was within arms reach and no sounds indicating trouble reached his ears from camp.  
Carol held herself up on one arm, turning to face him as she groggily left her slumber.

"Something wrong?" She asked sleepily, concern in her tone.

He shook his head, draping his arm over her shoulders and pulling her closer, pressing his lips against her hair.  
" 'M fine, everythin's fine, I got ya. Go back t' sleep."

She nodded, giving a small, content little smile before drifting back to sleep with her head against his chest.  
Daryl pulled his crossbow a little bit closer- just in case- and watched Carol while he tried in vain to drift off again.


End file.
